Fuck is a Bad Word Brendon: hi, honey. teehee that's funny: "honey". haha, it sounds like we're a married couple!!1!1!
Sweetheart Brendon: hey, babe, you're sexy as hell. the people around here call me daddy.
vs
Fuck is a Bad Word Reader: teehee. "honey" does sound like we're married but you can call me that if you want!!!1!1!1!
Sweetheart Reader: do not glance in my direction. do not walk in my direction. do not BREATHE in my direction I will cut you.
I'd also like to warn that there are mentions of mental illness in this chapter and the reader has many inhumane thoughts and such due to what has happened to her.
🛑❗️Please do read the note at the bottom❗️🛑
As soon as I stepped out of the car there were few things drawn to my senses: the wind against my skin, the reflection of my face on the shiny paint of the black car, and the subconscious feeling that I was being stared at.
Although my suspicion of eyes boring into me from all directions was not warranted, I was worried that someone, anyone may know exactly who this car belonged to and exactly who I was living with.
But no one looked my way. No one whispered to the person next to them and pointed in my direction. No one followed me or spoke up as I walked into the coffee shop with the quirky name.
And I liked it that way. I didn't want extra attention to make me nervous. But man, was it God awful having to wait for Lexi and Meagan to show up as I uncomfortably leaned against a wall and fiddled with the end of my shirt, nervously glancing at my phone every now and then.
Although it seemed as though I was waiting for a text, my wish to be saved from this corner of hell came true in the form of two girls.
Lexi stepped toward me first, a look of anxiety on her face. "Oh man, did we make you wait long? I'm so sorry about that, I had to pick this girl," she motioned to Meagan, "up and she just couldn't seem to get ready."
Meagan twisted her fingers around each other, glancing off with a "Sorry. . ."
I waved my hands in front of me, dismissing their thoughts. "No, no, I just got here early. And you're fine, Meagan. No one's angry." You felt sorry for her. It wasn't that she felt targeted by Lexi - no, I could tell they were too close for that. She was just too shy for her own good, and I intended to lessen that feeling as much as possible.
After all, it was quite similar to how I was when my mother passed.
Meagan smiled lightly and looked up to me. "Really? It's just that I don't drive and I feel like I'm bothering people. . ."
"Nope!" Lexi chimed in. "I'm fine with driving you places whenever. You probably already knew that, but don't forget it."
I nodded, agreeing with Lexi's statement, but felt curious as to why Meagan never got her license. I was not ignorant enough to dismiss the fact that some people simply did not want their license, but that wasn't always the case.
Meagan's frail voice interrupted your thoughts. "Oh, um, my license was refused."
I raised a brow at her statement.
". . . severe panic disorder. . ."
My mouth formed an "O" and I stared blankly at her. I never intended to be rude, but I was putting everything together in my head and processing the information. I had noticed her apprehensive nature as I was being hit when I first met her. The chaos seemed to be her enemy.
Lexi seemed to catch on to my frantic thinking and spoke up to avoid things getting awkward. "Anyway, lets get some coffee, shall we?"
I was awoken from my thoughts and began to blindly follow her toward the ordering counter, Meagan gripping the end of my sleeve and walking behind me.
All of our orders were quickly placed and we walked soundlessly toward a dainty table near a window, my eyes threatening to shift down to my feet as I thought to myself.
My life seemed off. I always seemed to wonder to myself if I had always felt these odd existential pangs in my chest and confusion clogging my mind. My frequent questions of whether or not I was real often kept me on edge. It felt as though I was too aware of everything around me, and like I had a rather inhumane aspect on every subject.
I often wrote down my thoughts on paper, especially since arriving at the Urie mansion.
Quickly after sitting, I spotted a waitress walking over to another table with their orders, but she tripped over in her heels and spilled the hot drinks on a customer's lap. She gasped sharply and apologized over and over, running to get ice, cool water, and paper towels.
Entry 1:
Humans are shrouded with a false hubris which they think justifies their wish to be more worthy to live than other organisms on Earth. They kill and harm the weak, but believe those of their own species deserve to live and stay unharmed, merely because they have brainwashed themselves to think that they are more important than every other living being on Earth. Humans were never blessed with more worth, simply more intelligence and arrogance.
Meagan closed her eyes at the sight and looked away, covering her mouth. Lexi stood and rushed over to help the woman covered in coffee.
I distantly heard her: "Is there anything I can do? I can take you to the restroom and help you clean this off, if you'd like."
Meagan began breathing exercises amidst all of the frantic yelling and concern.
Entry 7:
Natural selection must be present in every species, regardless of how desperately humans try to stop it. Physical diseases used to wipe out hundreds upon thousands. Cures have been created for those, so the diseases mutated to be immune to the cure and humans and their hubrises kept adjusting their antidote. This led to sexually transmitted diseases and cancer: physical diseases with no cure but only treatments. In very early times when cures were being created for small diseases, mental illness was first recorded. The reason? Neurological diseases are harder to identify, understand, study, and treat. Mental illness is a form of natural selection that does not personally kill the victim, but waits for the victim to give into their own mind.
I put my shaking hand on top of Meagan's. "It's going to be okay. She's not hurt. The coffee will wash out of her clothes. She is going to get another drink. The floor will be cleaned up and peace will ensue. No one will panic anymore."
Meagan slowly brought herself to nod and smile. I realized why she wasn't allowed to drive now: small things set her off. She could possibly faint any moment. Driving was too large a stressor for her.
I, in that moment, realized it was also my own mind causing my anxiety at the moment. However, it wasn't time for me to freak out in a situation where Meagan was having trouble. I tried to become more aware of my surroundings instead.
The waitress rushed over to the woman and handed her the water and ice in separate plastic cups and began to wipe up the coffee.
Entry 2:
Human inventions are an addition to their selfishness and desire to live lazy lives barely moving a muscle by themselves. A lot of things they create are useless and only for the aesthetics, which put several other organisms in danger as a side effect. The only attributes necessary in an organism's life are food and shelter. If people are senseless enough to tear down forests and habitats to build structures they don't need then they don't have the right to medical attention.
Meagan seemed to calm down a bit as she brought herself back to her senses. She smiled at me and let out a soft "Thank you. . ."
I looked into her eyes. Fragile, innocent, but sweet. Undeserving of her illness. I gripped her hand tight.
"No, we need hospitals. We need them. We need them. For Meagan. For mother." I whispered.
She held my hand back.
Entry 9:
Friendship is an allusion created by people so that they would feel noble and accepted. It's a selfish act of redeeming themselves.
My whispering grew to become normal volume. "No. I want to be friends with them because I like them."
Lexi led the woman to the restroom to clean up privately.
Entry 13:
Acts of kindness may make the person on the receiving end feel good, but the person carrying out the practice only has self-serving desires, hoping to redeem their ugly traits. A small kind act isn't going to cover up years of mistakes and issues, but they convince themselves it will.
I couldn't control the increase in my volume, but it was not my current focus. I was trying to keep myself sane. "Lexi is really nice. I know it. She's doing it because she wants to. She has no ill intentions."
Meagan let go of my hand and tried to get my attention, waving her palm in front of my face. "Um, [y/n]?"
Entry 5
Entry 12
Entry 23
Entry 16
Everything seemed to flood into my system at once and I rushed into the restroom, threw open a stall, and somehow made it in time to spew out the contents of my stomach once again that day.
"Fuck. . ." I stood up to wash out my mouth and try to make myself feel fresh again.
"Are you okay?. . ." Meagan had followed me into the restroom without me knowing, it seemed.
Lexi joined Meagan beside me and looked me up and down. "You don't look sick. Do you want some gum or something."
I nodded. "Yeah, I'll take some. And I'm fine, I'm just. . ."
Meagan giggled. "You're not pregnant, are you?"
Lexi laughed with her. "God dammit, [y/n]. Never saw you as the type."
"No!" But I knew I couldn't think of an excuse on the spot without having to plead sick and go home. I wanted to bond and make friends, and no way in hell could me throwing up in a public toilet ruin that.
"Let's go back to sit down." Lexi said goodbye to the woman and led the way back to our table without another question.
I would have thought they would be more apprehensive, more worried, or ask more questions, but strangely they blew it off.
Despite the initial problems, I seemed to be able to call both of them my friends by the end of the day. I had only known them for a few days, but it felt like months, maybe years. We clicked extremely well. But that wasn't the strangest thing that had happened that day, so I was willing to accept it.
When I arrived at home, Urie was nowhere in sight. When I finally found him, though, he was in my room, frowning while reading the journal with all of my entries in it. If I could even call those mine. I was familiar with my owns views and opinions, but the ones written in that journal were so. . . off. They were too merciless and terrible to be the stone-hard truth of what I believe.
But quickly, I was pulled back to reality, in which he had rummaged through my things and started reading a personal item. "Why the fuck are you reading that?" I stepped toward him reaching for the book as he whipped around toward me and pulled it out of my reach.
Urie didn't even as much as acknowledge my question before asking a question himself. "What is all of this written in here? This isn't you, at all."
I scowled, not because of what he was saying, but because I was defensive of that journal. I felt violated that he read that monstrosity. It even caused me to vomit. "That's not of your concern. And what would you know about me? I'm sure you've done all of your research or whatever but you don't know anything about my personality or who I am!" I reached out again.
"I. . ." He stopped himself. "I know enough to know you aren't like this. I just want to know why you wrote it and what was going through your mind to cause it."
"I don't know, probably whatever is going on in your mind right now, lunatic." I couldn't stop my tongue from mouthing him off in a fit of anger that he had gone through my belongings. "You're right, I'm not the insane one. It's been you since the moment I met you. Why the fuck else would you be sifting through my things like everything is your business?"
I ran downstairs and began to walk hurriedly down the hall which I recognized led to familiar spaces such as the kitchen and living room, him shortly coming after me, almost as if he had something to do before I stormed off.
"What about the book, [y/n]?"
"Burn it."
". . . Are you sure?"
"Get rid of it. I don't want to see it ever again."
That night I slept on the couch in the living room, as far away from Urie as possible.
But I couldn't sleep peacefully, as another memory haunted me.
A young girl ran happily up to the door of her home standing on her tiptoes to fumble with the knob, finally twisting it open and bouncing inside. Her father trailed slowly behind her, and she threw her school bag to the side and jumped cheerfully.
"Yay, a day where both mommy and daddy are home at the same time! We can bake cookies and play and both of you can color with me!"
Her father laughed heartily. "Yep, we definitely can."
The small girl cheered and ran further into the house, grabbing her crayons, markers, and colored pencils on the way. "Mama, mama, lets color! I wanna see you draw a kitty again, you're so good at kitties!"
She stopped as she found herself in the kitchen next to a woman on the floor, her arms reaching out lifelessly, her legs limp, and her face sunk onto the floor.
"Mama?" The girl stepped forward and poked her, and when her mother didn't respond, she giggled. "Are you playing, mama? I wanna play, too!" The girl then laid down beside the woman, mimicking her pose. "Daddy, come look! Aren't we funny?"
Her father walked into the scene, but instead of the laugh she expected, his eyes widened and he ran over to the girl's mother, shaking her violently and checking her pulse. "Dammit. . . Goddammit!"
He started to panic and reach for the phone, his quivering hand shaking the phone with it.
"Daddy, what's going on? Why are you yelling? Is there something wrong with Mama?"
He didn't answer and instead walked out of the room to report his situation to the responder.
"Daddy?" The girl stared at her mother, not sure of the situation, but her father began to shout worriedly into the phone and her mother wouldn't respond to her questions or statements.
By the time the girl's father walked back into the kitchen, he found his daughter a crying mess, her sobs of confusion muffled only by her mother's hair which she buried her face in.
I shot up, sweating heavily. This was something I remembered happening, but it appeared in much greater detail than what I recalled. I had never remembered crying or my father panicking and checking her pulse. I only remember coming home to my mother on the floor, my father hurriedly making a call, and the ambulance taking her away while I stood in ignorant confusion. Then again, I never quite recalled what my emotions in this particular memory were, but this cleared them up.
But then here was the headache and the nausea. I jumped up quickly to prepare to go to the bathroom, remembering I wasn't in my room and it would be a longer trip, but to my surprise, I was brought to my room over night. I payed no mind and rushed to vomit into the toilet. I couldn't stand how many times I had vomited in less than two days without being physically sick.
As I was brushing my teeth, though, I heard a knock at the door, and I opened it to reveal a fully dressed Urie, despite the fact that it was most probably 2 am.
I narrowed my eyes at him, unable to talk with a toothbrush in my mouth. I held a finger up and walked to the sink to spit out the contents of my mouth and put my tooth brush away, then walked back to him.
"Before you assume I did anything to harm or upset you, I had asked your father to transfer you from the living room to your bed." He had switched his means of talking back to formal. "I am aware you are upset with me, and, truly, I apologize, but I wished for you to be comfortable while you slept."
I nodded. I had felt as though I had been too harsh on him, but I was too clouded with negative emotions when I caught him with that disgusting journal to care. "Apology accepted, now drop the formalities. You don't have to talk like that, it pisses me off." I looked away, hating to admit what I had to say next. "And I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean anything."
I looked up to see his faint smile and he held out a bag to me. I took it apprehensively.
"I've noticed you're struggling a bit. Take two of these every night and I think they will help." I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. That must have been what he was working so hard to make.
I smiled and popped two in. "Hopefully they work, or I'm gonna fight you in a wrestling match."
"Sudden, but. . . if that motivates you to take them, I'm glad." Urie walked out, closing the door behind him and slowly walking to his own room.
I seemed to hear him muttering the words "All my fault" over and over to himself, but I was never too sure, and I did not want to worry myself over nothing.
From that night on, I was never haunted by the entries again, but my strange dreams continued.
But I never felt the splitting headaches or nausea again.
Whether it was coincidence or not, I didn't care.
Just a note: I do not agree with any of the entries the reader wrote in this book and in no way do I ever intend to romanticize the mental illnesses of Meagan or the reader. To clear things up, the reader's illness was not acquired over time nor was it genetic: it was a result of whatever happened to her (which you will find out). Because these thoughts were a, I guess you could call them, side-effect of the thing/event/whatever that made her memory have so-called "holes", the reader does not necessarily believe the things she wrote which is why they caused her to break down.
Either, way, I hope you all had a good day and an amazing Father's Day!
Anxiety hotline: (866) 315-6432
Suicide prevention hotline: (800) 273-8233
Mental health assistance hotline: (866) 931-7042